


for better and for worse

by offwhxte



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sad, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offwhxte/pseuds/offwhxte
Summary: He knew Aaron had a drinking problem. He knew he was a handsy drunk. He knew he was a forgetful sober man. He knew this wouldn't last.Or, the one where Spencer finds a way to feel appreciated.





	for better and for worse

It happened gradually. 

After Spencer superficially came to the conclusion that occasional alcohol intake wouldn't mess his work ethic up long term, he would investigate several bars that so happened to be on the stretches of road between the BAU building and his apartment complex. After a few nights of successful infiltration, he decided on one—Sovreign Remedies—and made an almost nightly habit of sinking onto the cold barstool on the end of the bar that was the furthest from the door. He wouldn't drink every time. Often, he'd buy a water with an umbrella in it and ask the bartender why he did this for a living. 

That was the routine until he found his boss in his seat, nursing a dark brown liquid and leaning on his elbow like it was the only way he could stay up. In fact, it probably was.

Spencer, although he knew he would much rather sit beside the older man and listen to whatever ridiculous ramblings he was participating in, he ultimately thought against it. He wrapped an arm around the man and went to lift him off of the stool, expecting Aaron to resist, grab onto the bar and scream, but rather both of the intoxicated man's arms came to encircle his neck as Spencer dragged him out to the car.

Spencer kept his bottom lip in between his teeth the entire ride. First, Aaron was talking about how his work was pointless, but somewhere along the way (Spencer hadn't been paying attention), he was talking about the mechanics of car sex, asking if Spencer's backseats could be adjusted or pushed back. Before he could even realize it, Spencer felt a pressure on his upper thigh and he glanced over to find Aaron's eyes wide and searching for some kind of reaction. 

Spencer, a sober individual, didn't give him the satisfaction. This, he would learn, was not the correct decision. 

Aaron continued to touch, feel, do anything his inebriated mind considered reaction-worthy. Spencer continued to bite his lips. He raised an eyebrow when a hand cupped the space between his legs. It was sloppy but effective.

Spencer stopped in front of Aaron's house. "Can you walk?"

"No," Aaron groaned. He held his hand out. Spencer sighed and pulled into the driveway, slamming his door a bit louder than usual to show his frustration with the whole situation and walking around the front of the car to help his boss out. 

When he got to the other side of the car, however, he was met with a slightly-askew Aaron who tugged him in by his lapels and pulled him into a kiss. Spencer eventually transitioned out of the kiss and lead Aaron to his door before anything could happen.

Spencer's mistake, although it was no accident, was going back to the same bar the next night.

The entire work day had gone without any mention of the night before. In fact, Aaron had seemed somewhat confused when he'd make eye contact with Spencer and the latter would blush profusely.

The case was particularly bad, so Spencer knew that Aaron would be in his spot that night. It was a selfish and unhealthy trip to the bar, he knew this, it was just that he was unable to get Aaron out of his head—or, at least, he couldn't get the drunk version of Aaron out of his head. Such a free man with no shame. Spencer kept telling himself that  _the drunk version of him is just acting upon what his sober self feels_  but he knew this wasn't the case, as well. 

It was a mess, but Spencer wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by without any effort on his part. 

That night, Spencer allowed himself to have a drink. He allowed himself to be dragged into a cab, and later, be dragged into an unfamiliar house with a familiar smell, and be pushed onto a couch that he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

In the morning, Spencer slipped out from under Aaron's body, his throat only slightly checkered with dark patches, but it was nothing a high collar couldn't cover. He hadn't let himself be completely overtaken, yet. It was only his second meeting with this new side of Aaron. He promised himself he wouldn't get swept away with this newfound source of attention. He promised himself he wouldn't confuse such a temporary source of validation with a long-term source of care. 

But then he did it again. And again. And again.

The first time he gave himself over completely was five months exactly from their first accidental rendezvous. After a half glass of Chardonnay and no pursuit of anything serious on his end. Aaron had inched closer to him over the few hours they had sat, chatted, drank (or, in Spencer's case, sipped). Aaron's arm was suddenly on Spencer's shoulder. And his other hand was on his leg. And the cold sole of his shoe was sliding up his ankle. 

And then they were in a cab. And Aaron smelled like bitters, and his lips were warm against his neck. Hell, and then they were at Spencer's place, and Aaron's arms were so strong, and Spencer just closed his damn eyes like he was just along for the ride, and he might as well enjoy this while it lasted. Like he hadn't instigated this in order to feel appreciated.

Then they woke up to the sound of a shrill alarm. And Spencer leaned up on his forearms and watched as Aaron gathered his clothes and, very soberly and sternly, told him  _this was a mistake, I can't believe we did this, we were just drunk, it didn't mean anything, I need to get the fuck out of here._ And Spencer was given the opportunity—no, the privilege—of a reality check. He certainly loved chewing on the inside of his cheek and waiting for the older man to leave his home (he waited until he heard the door slam and the locks rattle) so that he could give way to the burning tears that were begging to spill over his cheeks. 

Two nights later, when Spencer finally gathered up the courage, he returned to the bar. And there was Aaron, sending a lopsided smile to anything that moved, and Spencer slipped right into his peripheral and made as much movement as he could without seeming inconspicuous. 

It worked. Of course it did. 

He was banking on this: Spencer had now learned all he needed to know. He knew Aaron had a drinking problem. He knew he was a handsy drunk. He knew he was a forgetful sober man. He knew this wouldn't last. But, if it meant he'd be given just a taste of what it would be like in the arms of the one person he'd give anything for, he'd continue it. No matter how unhealthy it was.

Garcia found out quickly. She was so disappointed. But Spencer just drank water out of a paper cup, leaning on her desk and said something to the effect of  _what would you do?_

She didn't say anything. She turned to her computer and typed something in. He didn't bother to look. 

Spencer was more careful. He'd come up with lies as to why Aaron was in his living room, as to why he was on Aaron's couch, as to why they both smelled like the same kind of shampoo or why they both had chocolate stuck in their teeth, and for some reason, Aaron always believed him. Perhaps he was too disgusted by the idea that it could have been the obvious reason. 

But Spencer didn't care. Sure, a few quiet sobs into a silk pillowcase with a sleeping man draped over his torso were becoming routine. At least he had a reason to wake up in the morning.  


End file.
